The Rebel

by Melinda Metz

  “You’re supposed to trust me,” she answered.

  He shot out one hand, grabbed her arm, and flipped it over. He studied it briefly, then checked the other one.

  Needle marks. That was what he was looking for.

  Liz felt like her heart had started pumping ice water instead of blood, coldness traveling down her arms and legs, up her neck and into her face.

  “I have to change.” She pushed her way past her papa, Maria scurrying behind her.

  “I’m not through with you,” he insisted.

  “I have to change,” Liz repeated, without turning around. If she looked at him right now, she was afraid she might hate him for the rest of her life.

  “Fine. Go change,” he called after her. “But from now on you’re at school or here or home. No exceptions. If you need to go to the library, your mama or I will go with you.”

  Liz ducked into the changing room and sank down on one of the spindly chairs. She didn’t think her legs would have held her up another second. Too cold.

  Maria shut the door behind them, blocking out the curious, sympathetic looks from the other employees.

  “You okay?”

  Liz shook her head. “You know he was checking for track marks, right?”

  “Yeah,” Maria said softly. “Liz, you know he’s just afraid because of what—”

  “Because of what happened to Rosa. Because she overdosed and he feels like it’s his fault for not seeing it coming,” Liz finished in a singsong voice. “But you know what, Maria? I’m not my sister. And I’ve spent half my life trying to prove that to him and Mama.”

  She felt a deep, shuddering sob build up inside her, but she wasn’t going to let herself cry. Not now. Not where he could hear her.

  Maria sat down next to Liz and nudged her with her shoulder. “You ever think of saying to your dad what you just said to me?”

  “Are you kidding?” Liz pressed her hands between her knees, trying to get her fingers warm. It didn’t help. “How could I when no one in my house ever says the name Rosa? We don’t even have any pictures of her anywhere. Not in the albums, not on the fridge, not in the hall. They all disappeared the day after she died. I don’t know where they are. I’ve looked for them a bunch of times, but—”

  A sharp knock on the door interrupted her. “Are you two working today, or should I be giving Evie and Jose overtime?” Liz’s papa demanded.

  “One minute,” Maria called back. She jumped up and pulled her uniform down from the little clothes rack. Then she grabbed Liz’s and held it out to her.

  Liz just stared at it.

  Maria gave it a shake. “Please? For me?”

  “You know what I just realized?” Liz asked. “He’s my father. We live in the same house. I work at his restaurant. And he doesn’t even know me.”

  “I want to know all about you,” Michael told Trevor. It came out sounding a lot dorkier than it had in his mind. He was just stupid with happiness right now. He actually had a brother!

  “Like what?” Trevor asked. His head swiveled back and forth as they walked down Roswell’s main street. He obviously wanted to see everything.

  “Like the Kindred. Is it all people who wanted the right to have more than one birthing cycle?” Michael asked.

  “Some of them are,” Trevor answered. “But they aren’t the only ones who have to go into hiding to live the kind of life they choose.”

  “Really?” Michael had always pictured his home planet as this totally perfect place, a place where Michael would have this totally perfect life if he could just find his parents’ ship and get there.

  He realized now that was totally childish. Why would earth be the only planet in the universe where things were messed up?

  “That kind of looks like your friend Alex,” Trevor said, pointing at the plastic Ronald in front of McDonald’s.

  Alex again. This was about the fifth time Trevor had brought up Alex today.

  Michael gave the plastic Ronald a fast look. “Maybe the hair, a little. Why else do people join the Kindred?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Some because—”

  Trevor was interrupted by the toot of a car horn. Michael glanced over and saw Mrs. Pascal hanging out the window. “Michael, I want you to come over for dinner some night. We miss you. And I know Dylan would love to see you.”

  “Okay, I will,” he called back. And he actually meant it. Mrs. Pascal seemed much less annoying when he didn’t have to live with her.

  “Who was that?” Trevor asked after Mrs. Pascal had driven on.

  “She was one of my foster moms,” Michael answered.

  “How many did you have?” Trevor stopped in front of the car wash and studied the painting of a cat that was getting its spaceship polished up. “That thing could never fly,” he said.

  “That thing could never fly it,” Michael said, nodding toward the cat.

  “So how many foster moms?” Trevor asked as they continued down the street.

  “Too many. I tried not to count,” Michael admitted. “Did you stay with one family when you were with the Kindred?”

  “No. I sort of belonged to everyone,” Trevor said.

  Basically the opposite of me, Michael thought. He hadn’t belonged to anyone.

  Michael felt a stab of disgust. Get over yourself. Like Trevor had it easy. His parents told him they would come back for him, and then he never saw them again.

  “I bet Alex’s parents were concerned when he disappeared,” Trevor commented.

  And we’re back to Alex again, Michael thought. “They were completely freaked.”

  “There were definitely people on our planet who were concerned when he arrived.” Trevor shoved his fingers through his hair, and Michael was struck by the fact that his hands and Trevor’s were almost exactly the same shape and size. He wondered if that meant he and Trevor would look sort of alike in all their bodies’ adaptive forms.

  “Max kept trying to send the beings of the consciousness info about Alex to try to keep the freaking to a minimum,” Michael said.

  “What kind of stuff?” Trevor asked.

  “Like how Alex helped save our butts when Sheriff Valenti, the Clean Slate agent I told you about, was zeroing in on me and Max and Isabel,” Michael answered. “And how he sat with Isabel practically every second for days after the sheriff killed her boyfriend.”

  “Alex sounds like a good guy,” Trevor commented.

  “The best,” Michael answered. He noticed that his mouth felt really watery, and he laughed. “I start salivating as soon as I get on this block,” he told Trevor. “Come on. It’s way past time for you to have your first cruller.”

  Michael led the way into the doughnut shop and ordered four crullers. He shoved two of them at Trevor after they sat down at one of the little tables in the back. Trevor picked one up and started to take a bite.

  “Wait! Not like that!” Michael exclaimed. He jerked Trevor’s hand away from his mouth. “You’ve got to have hot sauce,” he explained. He pulled out a handful of packets from his pocket, then he ripped a couple open and squirted them on Trevor’s cruller. “Okay, now you can eat it.”

  Michael watched Trevor as he chewed. He smiled when he saw the awe appear on Trevor’s face. “Good?”

  “Amazing. Fantastic. Phenomenal,” Trevor answered.

  “I guess we must have the same taste buds,” Michael said. He felt the little pop of pleasure he got every time he discovered a similarity between him and Trevor.

  “Definitely,” Trevor mumbled, his mouth full with a massive bite of cruller. “I guess Alex wouldn’t go for this combo, huh?”

  What’s with all the questions about Alex? Michael wondered. He gave a mental shrug. He really didn’t care what they talked about. He was hanging out with his brother.

  “I got the most brilliant idea last night!” Stacey Scheinin cried. “At halftime we should spell out our team’s name with our bodies! Can I hear a yeah?”

  All the Sta
cey wanna-bes immediately screamed, “Yeah.”

  “Sounds fabulous,” Isabel added.

  Everyone on the cheerleading squad stared at her. It took Isabel a moment to figure out why. Oh, she realized. It’s the first time I ever agreed with Stacey about anything.

  That just showed what an incredible mood she was in. She had fuzzy-wuzzy feelings toward everyone in the whole world, even look-at-how-cute-I-am, aren’t-I-the-best-little-head-cheerleader-ever Stacey.

  “Are you feeling okay? Because I’m suddenly in need of a barf bag,” Isabel’s friend Tish Okabe whispered in Isabel’s ear.

  “I’m feeling spectacular,” Isabel answered.

  Alex was back! Michael had a brother! And Sheriff Valenti was still dead!

  Yeah, Elsevan DuPris was out there somewhere, but she wasn’t going to ruin one of her best days ever thinking about that.

  “You’re awfully happy today,” Stacey said, sounding suspicious, or at least as suspicious as someone with a Minnie Mouse voice could sound. She shot a sly look over at the bleachers. “The new boy must be good for you.”

  Isabel followed Stacey’s gaze and saw Kyle Valenti staring at her. As she watched, he pulled out a lighter and flicked it on and off, on and off.

  What a loser, Isabel thought. Does he think he’s at a concert or something? She felt a tiny bit of her joy drain away. Little Kyle clearly had something on his mind. Something vicious.

  Deliberately she turned her back on him. Kyle was an insect. When he became annoying enough, she would deal with him. “Some of my fans do get a little overadoring,” Isabel told Stacey.

  “I bet you’re sorry you jettisoned Alex,” Lucinda Baker called out. “I saw him bending over the drinking fountain. He’s been doing his butt-building exercises, that’s all I can say.”

  “Uh-huh,” one of the Stacey wanna-bes added. “I can’t believe I never noticed how yummy he is.”

  Alex had definitely come back home with something different about him. He’d been weak and scared, yeah. But when Isabel finally got used to the fact that he was really and truly home, she couldn’t help notice that he’d undergone some kind of transformation. It was like he had a glow about him. But she wasn’t going to stand around and discuss that with the squad.

  “So do you want to practice the letter thing now?” Isabel asked Stacey.

  “It’s getting late. We’ll do it next time. That’s it for today,” Stacey answered. She sounded sort of confused.

  I have to remember this, Isabel thought. If I want to mess with Stacey’s head, all I have to do is be nice to her.

  “You don’t actually have something going with Kyle, do you?” Tish asked as she and Isabel headed for the locker room.

  “Did I just hear you ask me if I had something going with Kyle?” Isabel asked with mock horror.

  Tish grinned. “Okay, but you do have something going with somebody. I can see it on your face. So come on. Confess. Did you get back with Alex? Because he is looking extra crispy.” She held the locker-room door open for Isabel, then led the way over to their lockers.

  “Tish, come back from the fifties, okay?” Isabel sat down on one of the peeling wooden benches and kicked off her shoes. “A guy is not the only reason for a girl to be happy.”

  Although she had to admit that Trevor had … possibilities.

  “Don’t even try giving me that superior attitude,” Tish answered. “I know exactly how many times you saw the last Julia Roberts movie, okay?”

  “I’m not saying I don’t like guys,” Isabel answered. “Guys can be very entertaining. I’m just saying there are other things in life.”

  She opened her locker and reached for her towel. She always brought her own. The ones at school were way too thin. Plus other people used them.

  When she pulled the towel free, a doll fell to the floor with a soft plop.

  “What a cute little cheerleader outfit it has on,” Tish cooed. She picked it up, and Isabel saw the doll’s face for the first time.

  Make that the glob of charred plastic where the doll’s face used to be.

  Kyle and his lighter have been busy, Isabel thought. She took the doll from Tish and used the very tips of her fingers to deposit it in the trash. Now she really couldn’t wait to get into the shower.

  I suppose I should deal with that boy sooner rather than later, she thought.

  “You’re in trouble,” Kevin said with a smirk.

  Maria shut the door behind her. “Don’t sound so happy about it,” she answered. “Remember how many things I know about you—things that Mom would be very interested in, things that could put you in your room for life.”

  “I’m so scared.” Kevin gave an exaggerated shiver that made his arms flop around like overcooked spaghetti.

  “Maria, is that you?” her mother called from the kitchen.

  “Yeah,” she called back.

  “Come in here for a minute,” her mom answered.

  “See?” Kevin mouthed.

  Maria ignored her little brother and headed toward the kitchen. At least there is no way this will even get close to the meltdown between Liz and her dad, she thought. She took a deep breath and stepped through the door.

  Her eyes immediately went to the mosaic of miniature candy bars laid out on the table in front of her mom. Uh-oh. Bad sign. Maria’s mom stayed away from candy except when she was in major stress mode.

  “I heard from Mr. Ortecho that your trip to the caverns was unchaperoned,” her mother said.

  Unchaperoned. What a weird, old-fashioned word. Like they should have taken a prim governess in a long black dress with them. The thought brought a giggle bubbling up Maria’s throat. She covered it with a cough. Laughing right now would not help the situation.

  “Yeah,” Maria admitted. “But I didn’t really say Mr. Ortecho would be with us. You just interpreted—”

  “Maria.”

  That one word, in that tone of voice, was enough to make Maria give up her feeble attempt at coming up with an excuse.

  Her mother unwrapped one of the little candy bars and popped the whole thing in her mouth.

  “Maria,” she repeated, her voice softer now, more tentative. She peeled another candy bar, popped it. “Maria, have you … ? Are you … ?”

  She reached for another piece of candy. Maria pinned her hand to the table, stopping her.

  “I have to say, I have no idea what you’re attempting to communicate here,” she told her mom.

  “I’m so bad at this,” her mother burst out. “I’ve spent half the day trying to figure out how to talk to you about, um, intimacy.”

  Intimacy, Maria silently repeated.

  Oh no. Oh. My. God! Her mother wanted to have a sex talk!

  Maria grabbed one of the candy bars, unwrapped it, and shoved it in her mouth. Two refined-sugar intakes in one week. What was wrong with her?

  “I’m not happy that you spent the weekend alone with some boys,” her mother said. She pulled her hand free of Maria’s but left the candy on the table. “But I know that—that sex isn’t something that can only happen on a weekend away from home.”

  She had started sounding somewhat robotic. Maria figured this must be the beginning of her prepared speech.

  “Mom, you don’t have to. I’m not … I haven’t. It’s not an issue,” Maria stammered.

  But her mother was unstoppable. “The most important thing to me is that you’re safe. Now, we can make you an appointment with my gynecologist and get you a prescription for the pill. But as I hope you know, that won’t protect you against AIDS or venere—”

  “Mom, believe me, there’s no one I’m interested in … being with,” Maria insisted.

  Except Michael, she added to herself. And there’s no possibility of anything intimate happening between us. Not when he’s still wrecked by Cameron leaving. Not when I’m going nuts pretending I’m just his buddy.

  “All right, I’ll only say one more thing.” Her mother started to put the remaining candy bars
back in the bag. “Wait for someone you really care about, who really cares about you.”

  Michael. It was him or nobody.

  Maria’s heart tightened in her chest. She could be facing a very, very long wait. Like forever.

  “I promise,” Maria told her mother. “But you really don’t—”

  The phone began to ring, interrupting her. Maria tipped her chair back far enough to grab the receiver. “Hello?”

  “I can see you right now,” a male voice said. “Sitting at the kitchen table with your mother. Having a little heart-to-heart. It’s very sweet.”

  Maria opened her mouth, but she couldn’t get any words out. Her throat was too dry.

  “I can see your brother, too,” the voice continued. “In the living room, playing some video game. Yes, I can see everybody in the house, every move they make.”

  There was a click, and the dial tone started to hum in her ear.

  “Who was it?” Maria’s mother asked.

  Maria swallowed hard. “Wrong number,” she answered. She stood up and crossed to the kitchen window. The front yard was dark and empty. So were the sidewalk and the street.

  But Maria knew someone was close by. Watching. She pulled the curtains closed.

  It’s just Kyle, she told herself. It has to be just Kyle, right?

  But even if it is just Kyle, she thought, a tingle of uneasiness running down her spine, what if he gets tired of just watching?

  Alex slid into bed, his own bed, with the dip in the middle that fit his body perfectly. I’m home, he thought for probably the fifty-second time that day.

  He didn’t expect to be able to sleep—at least not right away. He figured his brain was crammed with way too much info—about his dad and Trevor, mainly. But when Alex’s head sank down into his soft, goose-down pillow and he closed his eyes, he immediately felt that slipping-sliding wooziness he always got when he was just about to go under.

  The next thing he knew, he was falling. No, not falling, being hurled—down, down, down. His velocity pushed the flesh of his cheeks back toward his ears, curled his top lip toward his nose.